


Emergency

by feathers_and_cigarettes



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Defenders (Marvel TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Claire Temple is So Done, Emergency room, Fluff, Fratt - Freeform, Human Disaster Matt Murdock, Humor, Inspired by Real Events, M/M, Pray for Frank, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 09:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21492181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feathers_and_cigarettes/pseuds/feathers_and_cigarettes
Summary: Frank takes Matt to the emergency room for an unknown illness and regrets all his life choices.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Matt Murdock
Comments: 12
Kudos: 288





	Emergency

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by actual ER shenanigans that happened the other night. Please be kind to your nurses, don't be Matt Murdock.
> 
> Follow me on [tumblr!](http://feathers-and-cigarettes.tumblr.com)

“Frank, I’m fine.” 

“You’re not fine; you’ve been laying in the goddamned bathroom for four hours pukin’ your guts out.” 

“That’s an exaggeration – “ 

Frank crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe. “Four hours. I’ve kept track. And that’s not even counting this morning when you were halfway mobile and just irritating instead of concerning and irritating.” 

Matt groaned and lifted his head from where it had been resting on his forearms and glared in Frank’s general direction. “Fuck you.” 

“When there’s no chance of you hurling on the bed, sure,” Frank replied, taking in Matt’s clammy pale skin and the dark circles under his eyes. “This shit’s messing with your senses too, your death glare’s off by a couple feet to your right.” 

Matt shifted his glare with a scowl. “It’s probably just food poisoning.” 

“Yeah, well, I don’t really give a shit what it is when you’ve been throwin’ up blood for this long. C’mon,” Frank said, offering a hand. “We’re going to the hospital.” 

Either Matt ignored the hand or whatever had gotten into him had really fucked with his senses, Frank wasn’t sure which. Probably both. That stupid, stubborn look crossed Matt’s face and he hunched even more around the toilet bowl. 

“No, no hospitals, Frank. I’ll just wait it out.” 

Frank rubbed his hand over the back of his head and clenched his jaw. He hadn’t met anyone more contrary and obstinate than Matt Murdock – he put even toddler Frank Jr in his “no” stage to shame. Really, he had two options: one, knock Matt unconscious somehow and drag him into the ER and deal with the fallout later or two, blackmail. 

Option one was probably the easiest even if it meant Frank was banished to his own apartment for a few days. There was the chance of that with option two, along with the likely probability of revenge, but fewer questions would likely be raised at the ER itself. The question was, how to realistically blackmail a lawyer and win? 

Or, rather, how to blackmail a _Catholic? _

Frank dug his phone out of his pocket and switched it off silent. Sliding it open, he tapped his contacts list and watched Matt carefully. 

“Are you…” Matt tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing. “You wouldn’t.” 

Finger poised over the call button, Frank raised an eyebrow in a gesture of defiance that was completely lost on his blind boyfriend. “You gonna come with me to the ER?” 

Matt barked a weak laugh. “There’s no way you’re going to call my _mother _because I won’t go to the ER. A fucking _building _fell on me and she was the one who nursed me back to health in the church, remember?” 

Frank shrugged and tapped the button. “Suit yourself, Red.” 

The phone rang three times – Frank honestly couldn’t remember whether Sister Maggie had this particular burner’s number or not – before Matt snapped his jaw shut and lunged forward, grabbing the phone out of Frank’s hand and quickly cutting the connection. He tossed the phone in the sink and stood shakily to his feet, his face pale and greenish. 

“Fuck you, Frank,” he ground out before shouldering past Frank out of the bathroom and groped around the coffee table for his cane. 

“I’ll get the truck, stay by the sink in case you’re gonna be sick again,” Frank said, trying to keep the smug pleasure out of his voice. “I ain’t cleaning any more bodily fluids out of the seats this week.” 

~*~*~*~ 

Metro-General was surprisingly quiet, even for two in the morning. Frank understood Matt’s aversion to hospitals, the smell of antiseptic and generic industrial strength cleaner never failing to make his skin crawl, but outside of stitching up cuts and bullet wounds, neither of them were really great when it came to actual illnesses. 

Matt had refused Frank’s arm for about five steps before dizziness seemed to overtake him and he swayed alarmingly on his feet, his cane skittering out in front of him. 

“Easy, Red, here,” Frank murmured, holding out his arm for Matt to grab, sliding his other arm around his waist. They likely looked like a suspicious pair, with Matt’s light blue button down shirt and black slacks and Frank’s black baseball cap pulled low over his eyes and black hood up, and the few people in the waiting room shifted quietly to the other side of the room. 

The nurse thankfully called them quickly into triage, and Matt begrudgingly gave his permission for Frank to accompany them. He was starting to look clammy again, his hand not quite as strong around Frank’s elbow. 

To his credit, Matt didn’t put up much of a fuss with the triage nurse, answering her questions more or less honestly and allowing her to take his vitals. Even more worrying, he kept his hand resting on Frank’s knee through the entire process, squeezing gently when the nurse eyed Frank warily and asked if Matt felt safe at home. 

Frank wasn’t used to the outward display of affection. When they were in the privacy of either of their apartments, sure, though even then Matt had never been very physically affectionate. Neither of them were much for PDA and Frank was thrown. 

He excused himself as Matt was sent to the bathroom to piss in a cup, making his way out of the ER and over to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee. The last time he’d been to the ER for someone had been when Lisa had broken her wrist playing softball and a wave of unpleasant emotions warred within Frank’s mind. Picking his way slowly back to the waiting room, he sipped his coffee and tried not to think about it. 

“Mr. Castiglione?” 

Frank looked up as a harried looking nurse stood in the doorway. At least Red wasn’t so sick he forgot Frank’s alias. 

“Your um, partner? Mr. Murdock. You can come wait with him in the room if you’d like.” 

Nodding, Frank followed the nurse through the doors and back to the rooms. “How is he?” 

“We have him down for bloodwork and an IV,” the nurse replied briskly. “He’s, ah… uncooperative.” 

Frank snorted. “Yeah that sounds about right. Claire Temple workin’ tonight by any chance?” 

The nurse shot him a curious look. “I can check, though we’re a little short staffed tonight.” 

“She knows how to handle his particular brand of idiocy, is all. Only one I’ve seen go toe to toe with him when he’s feelin’ sick and win.” 

Matt was sitting up in the hospital bed when Frank walked in, eyeing the phlebotomist mutinously and stripped down to a hospital gown and boxer briefs. His cane and glasses sat on top of the pile of clothes on one of the chairs and he looked in Frank’s direction with a kicked puppy expression. 

“Frank, tell them this is ridiculous,” Matt grumbled, twitching his arm away as the unlucky phlebotomist tried unsuccessfully to get him to extend it. 

Frank sipped his coffee and settled back in the chair, shooting the poor bastard a _what can you do _look when Matt squirmed away again. 

“Oh fuck you, I know you’re laughing.” 

The phlebotomist used Matt’s momentary distraction to snap the tourniquet around his bicep. “Make a fist please, Mr. Murdock.” 

Setting his coffee down, Frank leaned forward and grabbed Matt’s other hand, bringing it up to his face. “Here, figure out what I’m sayin’ and let the guy stab you with the scary needle, okay?” 

“Why do I keep you around?” 

“Martyr complex,” Frank grinned, feeling Matt’s fingers twitch against his lips as the needle went in. “I’m God’s way of keepin’ you nice and miserable per Catholic tradition.” 

“I hate you.” 

Frank kissed his fingertips and stifled a smile. “Almost done, kid’s quick.” 

The young phlebotomist shot Frank a grateful look and set the final vial of blood onto his tray. “Just need to put in the IV and you’re all done, Mr. Murdock.” 

“For now,” Matt muttered, finally resting his head back against the pillows. 

The IV went smoothly, Matt having used up whatever reserves of energy he’d saved to be an asshole for getting him into the room and the bloodwork. Frank reached up to brush Matt’s hair back off his forehead, frowning as he felt the sweat by his temples. The nausea had seemed to come and go in waves and it looked like they were in for another round with whatever it was that was making Matt sick. 

“They say anything yet?” 

Matt shook his head, his eyes drifting shut as Frank stroked his hair. “They’re talking about a CT scan, the shift is switching over. Claire’s here but she’s pretending she isn’t so she doesn’t have to deal with me.” 

“Smart woman,” Frank chuckled. “They haven’t picked up on any of your superpowers right?” 

Matt rolled his eyes but didn’t bother to correct Frank. “No, I’ve never had any of my senses show up on tests or anything. Easier to hide right now anyway because my head’s so fuzzy and it’s hard to tell where I’m going.” 

“Hearing seems to still be pretty good.” 

“Yeah, I’d practically have to be shot in the head for that to go,” Matt teased, picking irritably at the tape around the IV. “Doctor’s coming in, resident. She’s excited, the triage nurse thinks I’m cute and you’re terrifying.” 

“With the way you’ve been acting up, you’d think those would be switched,” Frank replied, sitting back as the doctor knocked on the door and entered. He picked his coffee up and pushed his hood back. Maybe if he looked more presentable they’d have a shot at not getting security called if Matt decided to get a second wind and be a shithead. 

The doctor was young and pleasant enough. She introduced herself to Frank and Matt and asked Frank to explain what had been going on, obviously having been warned of Matt’s desire to be as uncooperative as possible. Matt interjected here and there with additional information but remained polite aside from occasionally shooting dirty looks in Frank’s direction. 

“So, no changes in diet, correct? And Mr. Castiglione, you ate the same things as Mr. Murdock? No one’s been sick at work that you’ve been around?” The doctor peered over her glasses at Frank and paused in her note-taking. 

“Yeah, we’ve eaten the same things, I feel fine. Only change that I know of is I got him to eat some lasagne last night instead of the usual breakfast burrito,” Frank said, smirking at Matt’s indignant expression. 

“I’ve been in court the past few days so it’s possible one of the jurors or gallery were sick, but no one in my office nor my clients have had anything I’m aware of,” Matt added, self consciously brushing his fingertips over the jagged scar over his collarbone and tugging the gown up to cover it. 

The doctor’s eyes flicked to the scar and over to Frank. “I see. Any injuries or anything, even if they were minor?” 

“He’s a boxer, does some mixed martial arts too. Remember a few days ago you took that kick to the gut, Matt?” Sure, it was by a human trafficker that Frank had later put a round of bullets through, but Matt had gone down pretty hard even with the suit’s protection. 

A venomous look crossed over Matt’s face for a split second before he quickly schooled it back into his neutral lawyer mode. “That was last week, and I was fine after. Worked out the next day, no pain after a day or two.” 

It _ was _ true, Matt’d even fucked Frank into the mattress so hard following their weekly ethics argument that Frank was stiff walking around the construction site the next day. If he’d had any kind of internal injury they’d probably have figured that out sooner. 

“We’ll keep it in mind,” the doctor said smoothly. She slipped her pen back into the pocket of her lab coat and picked up her clipboard. “I’m gonna send you down for an abdominal CT and then we’ll give you something for the nausea and some fluids. How’s your pain?” 

Matt shrugged. “I’ve got a pretty high pain tolerance; it’s fine as long as I’m not throwing up.” 

“Well, if you start to get uncomfortable, hit the call button and we’ll give you something for it. I’ll be back after we get your CT done and the results from the radiologists, just hang tight for right now.” 

“Thanks, Doc,” Frank said, reaching over to brush his fingers over the back of Matt’s hand. 

Matt echoed his own thanks and shut his eyes again, waiting until the door clicked shut behind the doctor to twine his fingers through Frank’s. “Your heart rate is making me nervous,” he said after a moment. 

“Yeah, well, aside from the birth of my kids, nothin’ good ever happened in hospitals,” Frank huffed, scooting his chair closer to the bed. “Don’t get me wrong, I like that you’ve still got enough energy to be a pain in my ass, but I’ll be happier when we figure out what’s goin’ on.” 

“Aw, Frank, you do have a heart after all.” 

“Don’t tell anyone or I’ll let you hurl all over yourself instead of handing you the bucket.” 

~*~*~*~ 

A half hour later, a nurse rolled an ornery looking Matt back into the room from his CT scan. She set up his IV and anti-nausea medication with instructions to call the nurse’s station if he needed anything. Handing Matt the remote, she started to show him how to work the television before it must’ve dawned on her that he was blind. She stammered and apologized as Matt ran his fingers over the buttons and Frank had to hide his smirk in his coffee. 

“It’s fine, ma’am, really. I can usually follow along and I’ve got Pete here to narrate if I need it,” Matt said, taking pity on the poor woman. He settled the remote next to him on the bed and leaned back, seemingly content to cooperate for now. 

Frank didn’t believe it for a second. He could see the way Matt’s jaw clenched and how tightly he was holding himself and he knew they were going to have a long night ahead of them. 

Within five minutes, some colour had come back to Matt’s cheeks and he was looking a bit more alert. With that new alertness, though, came restlessness, and Matt was not a man who took boredom very well. 

The first time could have been an accident. Matt avoided hospitals about as much as Frank did, and Frank wasn’t entirely sure what alarms were built into the average ER room. The IV monitor started beeping frantically and Frank was jolted out of the light doze he’d fallen into, heart thudding in his chest as he checked over the apparently fine Matt. 

One of the nurses came bustling in, checking the monitor and shutting off the damned alarm before checking Matt’s IV. She straightened his arm out, quickly finding the cause of the problem – bending his elbow too much had set the pump off. Patting his arm, she advised him to avoid bending it too much and left. 

The second time was definitely _not _an accident. Frank didn’t miss the gleam that flickered through Matt’s eyes and watched as he very deliberately bent his left elbow until the pump alarm went off again. 

“Y’know they’re not gonna release you just for being the most annoying patient in the ER, right?” Frank sighed. 

Matt shrugged one shoulder, smiling innocently at the nurse as she came running back in. 

The third time Matt set off the alarm was when he disconnected the IV entirely. He turned his best thousand watt smile on the nurse and managed to even look guilty to anyone who didn’t know he was full of shit. 

“I’m so sorry, I was just trying to figure out how to pause it so I could go run to the restroom. I didn’t want to set it off again,” Matt explained. 

The nurse looked flustered – Frank couldn’t blame her, he never could resist Matt when he turned on the charm either, the bastard – and offered to guide him to the restroom. 

_"What’s the refund policy on dumbass lawyers?" _Frank texted Nelson, who’d earlier asked to be notified of The Murdock Situation, as he’d put it. 

His phone buzzed a few seconds later and he opened it to six laughing emoji faces and a "_no take backs."_

Asshole. 

Finishing off the last of his coffee, he briefly toyed with the idea of getting up to get a refill, only to think better of it when he saw the nurses staring at him from their station just outside the doorway. He sighed, tossed the Styrofoam cup into the trash, and leaned back into the chair with his arms crossed over his chest. Likely some of the staff remembered the Punisher shooting up their hospital a few years back. Better to keep a low profile and just be the Good Boyfriend and hope no one recognized “Pete Castiglione” as Frank Castle. 

He drummed his fingers impatiently on his thighs. How long could it take to take a leak? He tapped out a text to Karen, not entirely sure he necessarily wanted her caught up on the situation, but it would be better to hear about it from him than Nelson. 

_"Frank, it’s almost 4am."_

It felt more like an eternity, but Frank wasn’t going to argue semantics. 

_"You took him home, fed him, and slept with him. He’s your problem." _

Yeah, okay, maybe texting Karen wasn’t a great idea. Frank sent her a vomit emoji just to be an ass and slipped his phone back into his pocket. 

Matt stumbled back into the room followed by a pissed-off looking Claire Temple, who shut the door behind her carefully before turning her full wrath on both of them. 

“I would ask if you’re insane, but I already know the answer to that,” Claire hissed as Matt hopped back up onto the bed. “Aside from managing to piss off all the nurses who could be helping other patients, did you really think no one would notice you wandering around restricted areas in a goddamned gown in your underwear? And really? You bring the Punisher in _ here _, of all places – not to mention wearing his fucking logo on your ass?” 

Matt frowned and ran his fingers along his boxer briefs until he found the small white skull along the bottom. “Okay, I didn’t know which ones I was wearing, I can’t exactly see them, Claire, and –“ 

“No,” Claire snapped. “Shut up. Give me your IV.” 

“Miss Temple,” Frank began as Matt almost meekly held out his arm. 

“You shut up too, Castle,” Claire interrupted, hooking the IV back up to the pump and checking the bag of fluids. “I’m already dealing with one dumpster fire of an Avenger tonight, I don’t need another one. Just sit here, wait for your CT results, and try not to make a scene.” 

To her credit, she managed to not slam the door behind her, but Matt still flinched as it shut. He picked absently at the tape at the crease of his elbow until Frank stood up and tapped his hand. 

“Here, move your ass.” 

Matt shifted over, tilting his head at Frank when he took a seat on the edge of the bed and took his hands. “I hate this,” he murmured, tracing the lines of scarring over Frank’s hands. 

“I know.” 

“I spent way too much time here when I was a kid. The smells, they mess with my head, I can’t focus. Everything just smells like death and pain.” 

Frank brought Matt’s hands up to his face and brushed his lips over his knuckles. “I know, Red. Trust me, I understand.” 

A pained look crossed Matt’s face and he cupped Frank’s cheek. “Shit, Frank, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply…” 

Frank leaned down and kissed him gently. “No apologies,” he said firmly. “We’ve each got our baggage, yeah? Let’s just focus on getting you better so we don’t have to sit here much longer.” He pulled the blanket up to Matt’s chest and settled himself more comfortably on the edge of the bed to wait. 

~*~*~*~ 

Another two hours later had them released to go home. Matt had more or less stopped being a shit, content to doze with his head resting against Frank’s side. He paged the nurse’s station maybe more times than was strictly necessary for warm blankets, but he _did _get cold easily and was at least polite about it. 

Claire had accompanied the doctor for the final discharge and kept her murderous glare up the entire time. Turned out she hadn’t been kidding when she’d said she had another Avenger to attend to: Barton had strolled by on his way to the bathroom, pausing in Matt’s room to shoot the shit about his broken wrist until the nurses came and wrangled him away. 

The doctor had been unable to figure out what exactly had caused the vomiting; she said the blood could have just been irritation as she hadn’t found a source for the bleeding. With instructions to keep hydrated and take it easy for a few days, along with a script for antibiotics and anti-nausea pills, she declared Matt Murdock a free man. 

Claire threatened them both to within an inch of their life if either of them decided to grace her ER again, and Frank wisely kept his mouth shut, nodded, and thanked her. 

After a quick trip to the 24hr pharmacy, they arrived back at Matt’s apartment as the sun was beginning to come up. 

Frank kicked off his boots and stripped down to his boxers, huffing a laugh as Matt did the same and crawled into bed. “I didn’t think you’d saved those stupid shorts. What was that? Pantsgiving two years ago?” 

“Mmm, something like that,” Matt murmured as Frank slipped into bed beside him. He curled into Frank, tangling their legs together and burying his face into his neck, one arm wrapping over Frank’s hip. “They’re comfortable. You still have the Black Widow ones I got you.” 

“I do. Would rather have your logo on my ass than Nat’s though.” 

Matt smiled against Frank’s throat, lips brushing over his pulse point. “Maybe I’ll fix that this year.” 

Nuzzling into Matt’s hair, Frank kissed the top of his head and shut his eyes, relieved that they were back to what passed for normal in his life. “Just promise me you won’t get sick again, okay? I can stitch you back up, we can call Claire -” 

“Probably should leave Claire alone for a month or so.” 

Point. “Okay, yeah. But just try to take care of yourself, Red.” 

Matt was silent for a moment and Frank wondered if he’d fallen asleep, then warm breath puffed against his neck and Matt spoke again. “Maybe the ‘Man Without Fear’ should have one fear.” 

“Yeah?” 

“The fish tacos from that cart on the corner of 38th.” 

Frank blinked. “The... _ what?” _

Matt lifted his head, eyes still unfocused but at least more or less back to normal. “I, uh, may have grabbed some on the way back from patrolling yesterday. I was hungry, they were there...” 

Frank took a second to process the new information, then very carefully reached up and whapped Matt upside the head. “We just spent nearly six hours in the fuckin’ emergency room because your dumb ass wanted goddamned bad fish tacos.” 

“Like, I said, maybe one fear is acceptable.” 

“I hate you,” Frank groaned, burying his face into the pillow and holding Matt just a little closer. 

Warm lips brushed his and the covers rustled as Matt pulled them up over them both. “Love you too, Frank.” 


End file.
